Time to make some waves in RVA...............

“Man is not, by nature, deserving of all that he wants. When we think that we are automatically entitled to something, that is when we start walking all over others to get it.”
                                                                                          ~Criss Jami~

   Most boating communities exist within a certain region, and are surrounded by multiple whitewater rivahs in a mountainous or elevated terrain.  This makes perfect sense considering there are four essential elements that must consolidate in order to produce rapids in a rivah........rocks, water, gradient, and constriction.  If you are missing even one of those four elements then you are also missing whitewater.  Due to this mandatory combination, whitewater is rare.  It exists on less than five percent of all rivahs on earth.  It is even more unlikely to find whitewater in non-mountainous territories.  It does exist, but it takes a unique geological occurrence in order to produce rapids in a flat environment.  There is no better example of a non mountainous whitewater rivah than the James Rivah in Virginia.  Finally, it is extremely rare to find large volume quality whitewater within the middle of a major metropolitan area.  Given the explanation of the first two variables of this equation I trust that you can see why.  Given all of these factors, Richmond Virginia is the best example of high quality urban whitewater anywhere within the United States, and we truly do possess an extremely rare and unique natural gem.

   When you combine one whitewater rivah with a large population of people, it produces a rather sizable  and quickly expanding paddling community...........and as I have stated before, it produces a lot of cooks in one not so big kitchen.  Over the past five years or so one of the head chef's in that kitchen has consistently made a name for himself through exploiting his position of power in the community, failing in his role of social leadership at the takeout, and abusing his job as a responsible father in life..................yep.  I'm talking about The Fat Bastard of Fourteenth Street ..............................and it's about time for me to go there.  

"There are two circumstances that lead to arrogance: one is when you're wrong and you can't face it; the other is when you're right and nobody else can face it.”
                                                                                           ~Criss Jami~

Let's be clear about this quote.  I have been on BOTH sides of that fence.

   I am going to explain this as simply and as bluntly as possible.  Two weeks ago there was an incident at the put in of the rivah.  It involved The Fat Bastard and a very well known, very well liked young, local boater.  The incident resulted in the young boaters leg being severely broken in multiple places.  He is out of boating for the better part of a year, and it is an unfortunate tragedy that should have never happened.
   Many stories have been floating around the boating community about what happened that day, but I believe that every single person who knows of the incident is well aware of exactly what took place.  I have heard the stories that have been reported and passed through the community, and I have put my own logical conclusion together about what happened....................IN MY OPINION, The Fat Bastard of Fourteenth Street viciously and violently assaulted one of our most beloved fellow boaters, and he should be in jail for aggravated assault...........I doubt there are many who would disagree.
   The story of what happened that day is not mine to tell, and you will not be hearing about it in this post or any other piece of writing I may produce.  It's a story that will reveal itself over time and in the proper manner.  There are many haters out there reading this right now who are probably thinking, "Here comes the part where he tells us 'I told ya so.'"  That will not be coming either.  I may be an asshole, but I still have a heart.  Instead, the main thing you will be hearing from me today is an apology.
   My apology is to the entire RVA paddling community, and I am apologizing for failing to stop something from happening that I had the power to prevent.  Had I stuck to my own instincts and followed through with the assault charges filed against The Fat Bastard last summer, he would have thought twice about violently assaulting a fellow boater, and more importantly, hurting a friend.  I backed away from something that I knew was right, and as a result a good person was injured.  I didn't do it because I was intimidated by The Fat Bastard.  I did it because I felt guilty about making waves in the paddling community, and I did it because I truly felt sorry for that piece of shit at the time.........................oh how I regret that decision.  For my friends sake, I always will.
 

  “We go through the present blindfolded... Only later, when the blindfold is removed and we examine the past, do we realize what we've been through and understand what it means. ” 

                                                                                                 ~Milan Kundera~

   Perhaps that quote is really telling us to learn from our mistakes, because it is only after you try and fail that you learn to strive for what is in front of you rather than dwell on what lies behind you................trust me.  I learned that lesson the hard way.  I cannot fix my friends leg and I cannot stop The Fat Bastard from assaulting him, just like I can't put my family back together.  What's done is done............but I can learn from this.............I think we all can.  

   This is the part that is going to sting for some..............................I won't take full responsibility for what happened.  There are many, many boaters in this town who have spent years watching The Fat Bastard set a poor and reckless example for the younger generation of Whitewater Dirt Bags in and around RVA.  We have watched him at the put-in, openly getting  high and drunk after paddling, and then hopping in his car, with his son, and driving away, only to head to Legends, our local bar. Don't get me wrong.  I am all about the rivah life, but not at the expense of a child, and not while risking the safety of others.  We have all sat in Legends many times questioning why an eleven year old kid and his dad are "bonding" over a beer and a glass of cherries, before dad "innocently" drives them both home.  And we have all observed The Fat Bastard pimp his son's paddling abilities out to whomever will pay attention, desperately attempting to live vicariously through his son's natural abilities.  We are all guilty.  Many sat by and said, "I don't want to get involved.  It isn't my concern.  I just won't say anything and pretend it doesn't exist."......................I guess everyone's perception really is their own reality.

   Now one of our own is suffering, and the transgressor of the attack is walking free.......................why?  It is simple.  He did what The Fat Bastard has always done.......................he attempted to lie his way out of it.  Am I a hypocrite?................yep.  I had an affair and lied about it WELL past the point that I should have, to pretty much everyone in my life I cared about.  The only thing I can do to remedy that mistake now is accept it, take accountability, and move the fuck on.  But I never lied about my own encounter with The Fat Bastard.  I simply wrote what happened, taking responsibility for my own part in the encounter.  Did I provoke him by calling him out in front of his son?..............maybe.  But I never lied.  I told that story EXACTLY how it happened, and simply posted it and then let everyone come to their own conclusions.  

  But I know The Fat Bastard did what he works hard at to do so well.........he attempted to manipulate the paddling community into seeing him as the hero, and anyone in his way as the villain.  He questioned my veracity, all while politicking for everyone else to do the same.  And he made every attempt to disgrace my name as much as possible, using The Fourteenth Street Whore as his accomplice along the way.  (By the way, we will get back to that dirty little yakin' slut a little later on down the road.)  He worked hard to do all of this, all while I just kept writing and kept letting everyone come to their own conclusions and think what they wanted to think.  Believe what you want.  I didn't care last summer, and I don't care now..................but what I do care about is my friend, and the fact that he is and will be suffering for a long time because of the actions of this one man.


“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”
                                                                      ~Edmund Burke~

I have used this quote before...........no one listened the first time.  Anyone listening now?

   The question is, where do we go from here?  There is light at the end of the tunnel and I am optimistic that the paddling community has begun to see the ways of their previous wrongs.  In my original post about The Fat Bastard, there were two points that I drove home in the hopes that change would come.  The first was the handicap parking sign being replaced at the takeout, and the second was The Fat Bastard being removed from the JROC Board.  Both of these problems have been remedied.  I am sure that The Island Chronicles had absolutely nothing to do with that....................coincidences happen all the time. (Can you see me rolling my eyes?  I refrained from posting my selfie with the handicap sign........it was tough.)  But regardless, I am very pleased to see change occurring.  The board members chosen for the next generation of JROC, although all loving that ride on the bandwagon, are wise choices. (I am sure that statement just surprised some................ and on a side note, Maxi-pad, I am going to disregard your bitch move at the put-in the other day.  Next time, man up and tell your friend hello.  If it happens again I'll call you out in person.  I know you.  You would hate that.)  These guys really care about The James..........maybe a little too much, but their passion is a great thing.  I believe the chosen team has the ability to do the right thing and make the correct choices.  The newly appointed fearless leader, my favorite little leprechaun, already stepped up to the plate when he stated that he would not, in any way, be associated with JROC if The Fat Bastard was involved............way to go little buddy!  Keep up the good work.  My only words of wisdom for the youngsters would be this...................

“There comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but he must take it because conscience tells him it is right.”
                                                                              ~Martin Luther King Jr.~

   It's a rivah........politics need not apply.  We have enough of that everywhere else around us.  Learn from past mistakes and make sure the ways of The Fat Bastard disappear with his reputation.  

   Finally, the most important point.............everyones favorite RVA boater.  He is the only one suffering in all this, and for what it is worth, I am truly sorry for not responding when I had the chance to prevent this.  You are one of the most gifted boaters I have ever had the privilege of paddling with and I am eager to witness your comeback, because I know it is going to be something special to watch.  Your best is yet to come, and this is nothing more than a small portage in that wild ass rivah of life.  You will be boofing stouts and styling lines again in no time.  Keep your head up, and know that an army of boaters and friends are behind you.........THAT, I am sure of.  

   “The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly; it is dearness only that gives everything its value. I love the man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from distress and grow.”
                                                                                ~Thomas Paine~

See ya on the rivah........................and looking forward to a brighter future.  PEACE

There's a Dirt Bag in All of Us.....................

“There is nothing more beautiful than living a simple life in this complex universe!”
~Mehmet Murat ildan~

   I was recently hanging out with a friend and discussing the term "Dirt Bag Paddler".  I informed her that I was a big fan of the Dirt Bags and was looking forward to seeing the Dirt Bag world grow in 2014 and felt lucky to be involved with the project.  She laughed and then said she didn't think I fit the Dirt Bag profile because I wasn't an asshole...................Timeout!!!!    First of all, I am an asshole.  PERIOD.  I am just extremely sweet to her because she is one of the nicest people I have ever met........and because she has very pretty brown eyes........and I know she is reading this right now.  Second of all, it never dawned on me until that moment that the term "Dirt Bag" could be classified with the term "asshole" in some situations........well, in most situations.  And third, I had made a terrible mistake somewhere along the way and had failed to properly explain to my friend exactly what a true Dirt Bag Paddling Nomad was, and why the lifestyle and persona that it represented was in fact the exact opposite of an asshole............well, at least it's the opposite of an asshole most of the time..........maybe more like some of the time.  But the point is, we represent something more.  The Dirt Bag represents the pure TRUTH behind the paddling lifestyle.  So I will now attempt to clarify and define the lifestyle of a Dirt Bag Paddler through stories and guest commentary, because if one thing is for sure, it's that there's a Dirt Bag in all of us....................................


“A lady once offered me a mat, but as I had no room to spare within the house, nor time to spare within or without to shake it, I declined it, preferring to wipe my feet on the sod before my door. It is best to avoid the beginnings of evil.”
                                                              ~Henry David Thoreau~


   I will begin with a simple example of how a Dirt Bag paddler perceives and accomplishes daily tasks.  Today I went to my car and realized I needed to clean the snow and ice off of it before I could drive.  After searching for a scrapper for about 7 seconds in my homeless, dirt baggin', nomadic, cluttered shuttle vehicle, I realized that if I thought like a Dirt Bag Paddler the job could be accomplished much faster...........................guide stick and a poogie.  BOOM!  Two minutes later my car was cleaned off and I was good to go.  Think like a Dirt Bag and the world simplifies itself.  Later on that day I received feedback on a previous blog post.  In that post I explained that a veteran rivah guide almost never has a knife with them on the rivah and that is how you can identify them as a skilled and seasoned paddler.........along with duct tape and weather faded PFD's, and worn down paddle blades. (William Nealy explains it best)  I received some feedback that it was not appropriate to use the example of a seasoned guide with no knife, because at some point in a guides career they would need to cut a rope..........this is true because I have been in that situation before on the rivah......twice.  However, the river knife is always the piece of gear every poor Dirt Bag guide never wants to buy.  So after once again thinking like a Dirt Bag, I gave a valid reason through an absolutely true story from my past............................


   "Expert rivah guides use their knives to spread peanut butter on their lunch, open beer bottles, and fight rednecks. Eventually you realize you are never going to use the knife for it's intended purpose...............I found this out the day I needed to protect my friend from an irate, moonshine fueled hillbilly. When I went for my knife it became stuck in the holster due to the amount of peanut butter clogging it up. As a result my friend was forced to squeal like a pig.......it was tragic."

   It is important to remember that the tragedy came from my rivah knife being stuck in it's holster from peanut butter.  The damn thing was ruined...........my friend on the other hand needed a little toughening up.  He would recover..........well, maybe not emotionally, but shit happens.  More importantly, what about my emotional recovery process for having to witness such a horror.  That is where the focus should be here.  It is also important to remember that 90% of everything that comes out of a rivah guides mouth is usually complete and total bull shit.............but custy's all love us anyway.  Go figure!  After all, we make them think we saved their lives........especially the hot ones.
   I cannot lay claim to the creation of the Dirt Bag's.  I became a part of the debauchery through my writing.  The Godfather of the Dirt Bag's is a man deep in the hills of the Midwest.........yes, the Midwest, who goes by the name of Chicago..............in an unprecedented move, The Island Chronicles for the first time ever has asked someone else to write their own personal "history" about the creation of DBP............Dirt Bag Paddlers.  When I say "history", keep in mind that the DBP's are in their infancy stage.  The fun is just gettin' started!  Please welcome our first guest writer and Godfather of DBP as he explains "The History of the Dirt Bag Paddler"......................
 

    "The Dirt Bag Paddlers started with a bunch of us Kosir's Rapid Raft river guides in Northern Wisconsin in the summer of 2013. We had just had a crazy drunken batch of Chicago customers teach us how to 'Wallace'. Being crazy and drunken ourselves, we immediately took it to the river and applied it to our carnage terminology. Wallace: roughly based on the legendary shot-blocking skills of former NBA player Ben Wallace. There are many forms of Wallace to the Dirtbag. On the river, Wallaces are separated into Upwards Wallace, where the boat is flipped and dumps the entire crew; the Downward Wallace, where the swimmer(s) take an especially nasty deep swim; and the Baby Wallace, where you might find that the Dirtbag lost his or her seat, paddle, or maybe a custy or two... Off the river, Dirtbags are well known by their frequent slapping of beers and other precious articles (such as paperwork) from each other's hands. They take the same form as on the river, with the added caveat that one must properly declare the Wallace by yelling "Wallace" during the act. The Baby Wallace is a slight bump of the arm that results in slight spillage, kind of like a warning shot... "Hey Dirtbag, pay the fuck attention!"  And never cry or get pissed, watching your Wallaced drink soak into the earth! Grab that muthafukka and pound that shit out!!! Around the same time, three of us went on a private trip out to Pennsylvania to paddle the Yough and party up Ohiopyle, one of the great river towns in America. We took to calling ourselves Dirtbags on this trip, Wallacing beers all over the town, not showering for days, and basically just living out of our tents and paddling, really celebrating the river lifestyle. Thus the Dirt Bag Paddlers were born. 
   In the very beginning you could only be a Dirtbag by going on a mission with one of us... but that didn't last long. We started a Facebook page designed to make jokes and rep our style of living, figuring our audience would be our friends in Wisconsin that we paddled and worked with.  Next thing you know, we have a hundred likes! The original DBs started asking, "do you know these people?..........No."  We realized we were on to something. We went out to run the Upper Gauley in September for Gauley Fest, and our little network of friends made over years of paddling expanded overnight. We taught them the Wallace.  Suddenly river rats from all over America were liking our posts.  So we started thinking, let's get Admins from all over America to share stuff about THEIR rivers and experiences.  See, most river people don't get to travel too far from their home stretches, because most of us are poor Dirtbags! We thought, what a great way to learn about other places, make some new friends and plan some new missions... BOOM! It started to take off! The more we shared, the more we realized that our jokes and fun were the same as people we had never met before, from rivers we had never heard of... from all over the WORLD! And we came to see very quickly that our experiences paddling were also universal to us all. We knew The River had no borders, no language barrier, just ONE LOVE!  And of course, Wallace!  The Dirt Bag World was born!  DBP looks all over the globe for Admins to share their stories.  We've made friends from every region of The States and on every continent: Chile, Costa Rica, Peru, Indonesia, New Zealand, Bulgaria, Greece, the Philippines, Nepal, Iran, Kenya, Norway, Sweden, Ireland, Iceland, Canada...... and we continue to grow. Dirt Bag Paddlers are all about sharing with the world our celebration of The River, and the paddling lifestyle, as well as bringing together all types of people and cultures to the whitewater world. We are free out there.........free from the imaginary boundaries that try to separate us from each other. DBP represents raft guides, kayakers, outfitters, racers, photographers, writers... just like our people who like and share with us. We'll paddle all day with you, and smack your beer outta your hand afterwards cuz we love you. We're here to Wallace, and enjoy life to the fullest. Cheers!"

                                                                                                            ~Chicago~



   To repeat........."We took to calling ourselves Dirtbags on this trip, Wallacing beers all over the town, not showering for days, and basically just living out of our tents and paddling, really celebrating the river lifestyle. Thus the Dirt Bag Paddlers were born."............that pretty much sums it up.  I couldn't have written it better myself, and I am proud to call myself a Dirt Bag.  Thanks for the contribution Chicago and I look forward to working with you throughout the year.

“Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They're not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.” 

                                                                                                      ~Anonymous~

   I know what you are thinking................How does that quote apply to Dirt Bags?  All they seem to want to do is paddle and WALLACE beers and refuse to grow up.  Well, in a way you would be right.  But DBP is about so much more.  It is about a certain unique lifestyle.  A lifestyle that values and recognizes the simplicity and true freedom of escaping the social confines of life.  Dropping off the grid for a few days, a few weeks, or even six months represents forward thinking in our modern and complex society.  We are a world that moves so fast we often forget to look around and appreciate our ability to live in the moment.  To be able to drop all of it and escape to a world that doesn't run on smart phones, tight schedules, coffee, and politics.  Dirt Baggin' breaks down life to its most simplistic form........Survive, Paddle, Live, Love.  Paddling adventures are true escapes from the world, whether it be for one afternoon, one week, or even a journey with no known destination or timeline................living the life of a true Dirt Bag Paddling Nomad is what our souls long for, and the adventures that are had during those times are what fill our hearts with life and love. These are the lessons I look forward to one day teaching my own sons, and these are the reasons there is a little bit of Dirt Bag in all of us.

"Every man dies, but not every man truly lives."      
                             ~William Wallace~


See ya on the rivah.................Dirt Baggin' my way through life.   WALLACE

  

Round 5: The Story (The Defining Year - Part I)

“The path to enlightenment, to find out who you truly are, has to be taken alone.”
                                                      ~Ghalib Shiraz Dhalla~

   2007 was a year that entered into my life very quietly.  I spent that New Years Eve alone in the small cabin I loved so dearly, deep in the forest outside Brevard.  Marcelle had traveled back to Charlottesville to spend time with her family, and I remember quietly watching the ball drop and listening to a driving rain storm commence outside.  The ironic part about the rain was that within minutes of the stroke of midnight, the deluge ceased, and the stars came out to welcome in the New Year.  It was a very symbolic entrance into the year that would inevitably define a large portion of my life.  

   Throughout the winter and early Spring, the separation of our two lives continued to broaden like a rivah, and I continued to allow The Epic Worthlessness that is Man to draw me away from Marcelle, and instead push me deeper into the wilds of WNC.  While she developed her career on trail with the beloved hoodlums of Camp Woodson, I embarked on increasingly difficult kayaking adventures.  The North Fork, Wilsons Crick, Watagua, The West Fork, play days at Hell Hole on The Ocoee, Section IV, the massive drops of The Little in Dupont (Well, the first two that is.  Screw that third one), cool down laps on the Davidson...............one by one I diligently checked off rivah after rivah as any aspiring boater does throughout their career.  With every new crick and rivah came the expansion of my skill level, feeding a never ending hunger for more sizable and more demanding whitewater puzzles.  I was a very prudent paddler, and my progress was slow and meticulous.  Early on in my career, during my first year in WNC, I attempted to charge forward, determined to reach the Class V level as hastily and recklessly as possible.  However, that mindset changed with a simple miscalculation on an easy Class III crick line one summer afternoon in 2005.  After accidentally flipping above a six foot ledge and being sent tumbling over the drop upside down, I landed head first directly on a rock slightly submerged under the water.  Without a helmet, the incident would have surely split my skull like a canoe.  However, my helmet safeguarded me properly, refocusing the impact to my rib cage as the full weight of my body and boat crunched my mid section like an accordion.  I was very lucky that the impact and the way I landed did not break my neck or damage my spine.  The incident did produce contusions in my ribs, resulting in a particularly painful paddle and hike out of the gorge, as well as a month long recovery.  This episode spooked me early in my paddling career, and the reckless abandonment that I had possessed throughout my days of soccer and first years of boating ceased.  I became an extremely cautious paddler, content to progress forward at my own pace.  The positive side to this set back was the ability to develop a love for the overall aspect of paddling.  I no longer focused on the adrenaline infused and glorified notion of whitewater, but instead directed my attention to the overall aspect of the beauty of the sport, eventually leading me to a love for whitewater photography.  Kayaking allows us the ability to enter other worlds, places that only our skill and determined mindset can take us to.  Sitting below drops deep within inaccessible gorges allows us the ability to appreciate an aspect of nature that cannot be found anywhere else.  The beauty and natural gifts that our sport delivers became the reason I loved to paddle.  To this day, I still never forget to sit in an eddy, take a deep breath, push the outside world far away from my consciousnesses, and appreciate the natural, untouched beauty of the rivah.  That is why I paddle, and that is why I will always cherish the sport of kayaking.

   

"It's not a far away exotic locale. It's just a moment we inhabit in an exotic way - a choice we make to live more playfully, to live more alive......"
                                                             ~Sandy Gingras~

  As the year progressed, the void between the two of us broadened even further, and I observed Marcelle continue to pull away, failing to properly communicate her feelings or thoughts about the future of our relationship.  My communication skills were less than perfect as well, however, I attempted to reach out to her in subtle ways, but that seemed to only push her away further.  Over the winter months, I helped her locate and purchase a $600.00 pop up camper in the hopes that we could pursue new and creative adventures, using the camper as a tool to bring us closer together.  Little did I know that Marcelle had alternative plans with her newly purchased prize.  In late Spring she came to me and announced that she was restless and worried that she was not prepared for the "domestication that we were inevitably falling into."  This came as a surprise to me, seeing that the Flower Pickin' Gentleman's life is what I thought she longed so much for.  In looking back on that time, I believe Marcelle didn't know what she wanted, and was making decisions based on her needs and not considering what was best for us both.  This irritated me considering I had always tried to put aside my own personal wants to do what was right for the commitment that I had made to her.  And so, in early May of that year, she decided that it was best for her to move out of the cabin and set up an alternative life on the grounds of her employer, living in the pop up with our dog T in the shadow of the Black Mountains, deep in the WNC wilderness..........................WTF?!?  Let's just say I was slightly confused by this decision.  She insisted that it was not because of me, but more an attempt to "find herself"..........again, WTF?!?  I was rather heartbroken, but Marcelle continued to do what was best for Marcelle, and before I knew it I was living alone, stuck with our bills, our responsibilities, and left worrying immensely about not only her safety, but her own mental stability.  I would wander out to her camp spot and visit her throughout the summer, trying my best to convince her to come home, but anyone who knows Marcelle knows she is the most stubborn pain in the ass that ever walked the face of the earth.  It was not long before I knew I would need to let her go about her life in her way, and simply wait for her to come to her senses.
   Many of my friends offered different advice for me, and in hindsight I should have listened to those friends.  The way they saw it, Marcelle didn't deserve to come back, and she had made a selfish decision that she would have to live with, because it was time for me to move on.  I had a quality job, good friends, an adventurous lifestyle, and the ability to make my way on my own in the world.  But I was heartbroken, and I missed her.  I decided to do what any true kayaker would do.........drown my sorrows on the rivah.  (not the best choice of words there)  So over the course of the summer of 2007 I truly stepped up my paddling abilities and utilized the time she had awarded me to fully immerse myself into the life of a dirt bag paddling nomad.  There were many weekdays that I was unable to find a paddling partner for these exploits (most people had normal job schedules), which limited my choices for places to paddle.  But when the weekend came, I would hit the Class IV-V world as hard as I could.  My weekday limits came as a result of two factors...........my safety on the rivah and the need for a shuttle vehicle.  I chose the places that I knew were safe.............Section IX of the French Broad (in which I could walk the train tracks back to the car), the Nantahala (which offers shuttle service for a modest $2.00 fee), and a one hour drive to Charlotte to experience the U.S. National Whitewater Center, which is an outstanding way for some relaxing solo paddling in a giant concrete ditch with constantly moving eddies and raft guides that steer their boats like a newly permitted teenage girl driving daddy's car............the whitewater at the park is the easy part.  It's everything else going on around the whitewater that will kill you.    


"The danger of venturing into uncharted waters is not nearly as dangerous as staying on shore, waiting for your boat to come in."
                                                       ~Charles F. Glassman~
   The Nantahala is an elementary, carefree, and incomparably cold rivah, and I used to thoroughly enjoy solo paddling it for a variety of reasons.  First, at the time I was living in WNC I sucked at kayaking, and the rivah was an easy and safe Class II(III) solo paddle.  Second, it's in a beautiful gorge with fun Class II rapids and plenty of people both on the rivah and on the banks to converse with.  However, it is also quite simple to escape the crowds and find a bit of rivah solitude when needed.  (safety meetings)  And third, the outfitters rent out duckies and rafts to clueless tourists without any knowledgeable guides. The tourists fumble and bounce down the rivah throughout the day, creating an epic amount of amusement for skilled paddlers to sit in hidden eddies and be entertained for hours by the carnage that ensues.  I have witnessed heroic fathers cluelessy attempt to navigate Nantahala Falls many times, only to narrowly escape drowning their entire families and securing the cold shoulder from their wives for at least the next week.
   On one particularly warm summer day in 2007 I sat in an eddy, enjoying the solitude of the rivah.  After a few minutes a line of colorfully clad kayaks came bouncing down the rapids.  The boats were led by an older man who was obviously an experienced kayaker.  His duct taped and faded PFD, worn down paddle blade, and lack of rivah knife is what gave him away as an expert boater. As I continued observing the unfolding scene I realized that each boat behind him had a miniature head peaking out of the cockpit, vigorously paddling and moving down the rivah with little to no control.  What I was witnessing was an NOC kayaking class for kids.  I sat and observed the scene for a while and then paddled behind them down the rivah to see how the group fared in the rapids.  All I could see were smiles on every kids face.  After taking the time to observe the joy, comradery, and skill being displayed, I came to a very eye opening revelation about my life.....................I wanted that!  I wanted to run a kayaking program.  I wanted to teach kids the joy and beauty of the sport I had come to love, and above all else, teach them the discipline and motivation that kayaking and the rivah bring to someones life.  For the first time ever, I knew exactly what I wanted, and I knew how I wanted to make my mark on the world.  At the time, I felt that Marcelle was slipping away forever, so I was searching for something new to fill that void in my life.  Teaching kayaking to the next generation was the lifestyle I would fill it with......................Stay tuned, because the second half of 2007 ends up taking a turn that no one saw coming, not even me.


“Most people want to be circled by safety, not by the unexpected. The unexpected can take you out. But the unexpected can also take you over and change your life. Put a heart in your body where a stone used to be.”
                                                    ~Ron Hall~

See ya on the rivah..........................hopefully discovering your own personal dream.  PEACE


To find out what turn it takes, click here..................................Part II   

The 2014 Island Chronicles Update

“Once we accept our limits, we go beyond them.”
                                            ~Albert Einstein~

   The Island Chronicles took some time off..............and I am sure a lot of you were thinking, "hell yea!  Now I can live in peace and just paddle."  Well, guess what?......................It's back.  Deal with it.  For the rest of you who did miss The IC, my apologies for the hiatus.  I needed a break............ from the story, from life, and from the train wreck that had been rolling along for about two years.............plus everything in the Northern Hemisphere seemed to be frozen solid for the past two months.  Living on The Island was, apart from having two wonderful boys, the coolest trip I have ever had the opportunity to experience, but unfortunately it was an experience that came at a cost.  Living on an Island and isolating yourself away from society does not help when it comes to being forced into a fight for your children.  In fact, it makes it pretty easy for those who want to portray you as "crazy" to make a pretty strong case.............I didn't care.  I just let everyone say what they wanted to say about the situation, and just continued to write what I felt needed to be written.......and I still don't care and do plan to continue to write what I feel needs to be written.
   So here we are, with a fresh paddling season upon us and a whole new set of adventures waiting to be had, new controversies to discuss, and a story waiting to be concluded.............with that being said, it is time to continue The Island Chronicles.  The story, the West By God adventures, and last but not least, my blunt and colorful opinion about a range of topics both in the RVA boating community and beyond. Why?...............why not?   After all, you're reading this now, which means you have nothing better to do with your time at the moment, so you may as well just enjoy it, learn from it, disagree with it, and take it for what it is worth.  Know what I mean?


  “Did perpetual happiness in the Garden of Eden maybe get so boring that eating the apple was justified?” 
                                          ~Chuck Palahniuk~


   Damn, that is one hell of a quality quote!  Just to update those who are either new to The IC or are not regular readers, this is not a normal blog.  Blogs suck!  PERIOD.  I despise them and do not read them.  In fact, if you go back and read the past posts in this blog, you will see that there are many things I do not agree with.  I use to let this bother me.  But now, I am pretty much indifferent to just about everything.  I will explain why that is later.  But by being indifferent, I can now continue the tradition of The IC with an entirely new and self amusing perspective.  
   It is important to know that this blog is an ongoing story.  It is written so you can either choose to read the story from the beginning, or just jump in and read a post here or there.  I do not write this blog for anyone other than myself, and I am perfectly fine with that approach.  If you don't like it, then don't read it.  I am cool with that.  I also follow one continuing philosophy.................perception is reality.  Every single one of us experience something different in life every moment of every day, so we all have our own reality based on our different perceptions of the world.  This is my perception.  If yours is different, ok.  I am cool with that. The question is, are you?


“Humans see what they want to see.”
                                              ~Rick Riordan~

   The Island Chronicles will still follow the same model, and will still be written with the same bluntness and controversial TRUTH that it has always been written with, however I will be writing from a new perspective.  Everyone who read this blog over the coarse of the last year probably said something like, "WOW!  Justin lost his damn mind.  Dude up and moved to an Island and said fuck it to society!  Now he is pissed off at everyone and doesn't seem to mind giving his opinion about, well, everything.".......................for those of you who did make that statement I have one thing to say...........Congratulations Captain Obvious!  Of course I lost my mind!  I had a meaningless affair with an 18 year old whore and threw away my family for nothing, and as a result had a scorned, pissed off, and very wealthy wife take everything from me (rightfully so) and then use my own children to seek revenge (NOT rightfully so)......................so yes everyone, I did lose my mind.  It's cool.  Hemingway said so.......................


"A man never knows who he truly is until he falls in love, gets in a fight, and loses his mind at least once in life."
                                              ~Ernest Hemingway~


   Looks like I am three for three.................I guess that means I know who I am now.  (and on a side note, my fighting experience came from my college days, not from The Fat Bastard.  That wasn't a fight.  That was just pathetic...........but we will get back to The Fat Bastard a little later, trust me on that)  It is important to note that The Island Chronicles are unique.  Most people lose their minds, find them, and then sit down and write what happened after all is said and done and their lives become boring and mundane again.  However, for those of you who followed this story from the beginning or caught up at some point over the past year, the perspective was different.  This story actually played out through the course of a complete life breakdown..........basically, I found a creative and colorful way to lose my shit, say fuck it, and then tell the world what I didn't like about it while I had everyone's attention as the crazy dude living on The Island.  I sat down recently and re-read The IC from the beginning, and one thing is for sure.................I lost my shit, but had one hell of a fun and adventurous time doing it.................for everyone that came along for the ride, thanks!  I hope you enjoyed it too!
   Well, now I have regained my shit, cleaned up my position in the world, and am looking forward to what chapter of life is next.  I sit here with the focus of rebuilding life and trying to re-invest in the belief that the system is necessary, the way of life I am being asked to lead is the healthiest approach for myself and my children, and that I am capable of investing fully in a "normal" lifestyle in order to be with my boys.  I will need to do all of this while remaining strong in the beliefs I have developed from the lessons I have learned over the past two years and beyond, and most importantly, the lessons I learned while on The Island........................I am finding this to be a tougher endeavor than I had originally thought.  I have read a lot of different stories recently about men who dropped off the grid, from deep Alaskan adventures to modern day urban exploits, and all had one common piece of knowledge..............coming back is hard.  
   I am finding this to be true, but I take it step by step, day by day, and try not to question why most things are pointless and stupid and completely unnecessary in our world.....................seriously, people amuse the hell out of me.  We have gotten so far away from what is important that it truly baffles me..............but that is an entirely different conversation for a different day.  Right now the focus will need to be on coming back.     So stay tuned.  I am sure 2014 will be just as interesting as 2013.  The RVA paddling community never disappoints.  Along the way look for the continuing story of my journey through a decade of the whitewater world, the biggest West By God adventure of all, tragedies and controversies,  and plenty of opinions to brighten up your day.


“Tell me that the purpose of life is to have fun, and without a care in the world I'll begin wreaking havoc on everything I pass. Now that's what I call pure, honest fun.”
                                                                     ~Criss Jami~     
           
See ya on the rivah...................with a new approach to bashing the shit out of life!   PEACE